Further Down the Road
by play.write96
Summary: Lucifer's in the cage—for good this time. Amara is gone. God is back. After returning as Chuck, He limited the number of demons and monsters roaming the Earth to give Sam, Dean, and Castiel some well-deserved peace. Still, their adventures are far from over, as now they must now adjust to one of their greatest challenges to date: suburbia (or something like it).
1. Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog

_**Series Background:**_

 _Lucifer's in the cage—for good this time. Amara is gone. God is back. After returning as Chuck, He limited the number of demons and monsters roaming the Earth to give the Winchesters some well-deserved peace. And did I mention that as a reward, Castiel was allowed to stay? Sam and Dean are finally settling down, but their adventures are far from over. They must now adjust to one of their greatest challenges to date: suburbia (or something like it. They've got to get in at least one hunt on the weekends, for Chuck's sake)._

 _ **Collection:**_ _Further Down the Road_

 _ **Title:**_ _Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog_

 _ **Snapshot:**_ _1 of ?_

"You've got to be freaking kidding me."

It looked like a normal dog. Black lab, probably less than a year old with those gangly limbs. But when Dean turned his head and looked at the dog out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—glowing red eyes, curled claws, teeth the size of his little finger. That was definitely not your run of the mill pet.

"You want us to babysit a hellhound?" Dean asked.

Crowley grinned with something close to . . . affection. Frankly, it was disturbing. "Daddy's got to go to a business meeting, and I don't want to leave her alone."

"Why don't you put one of your lackeys on monster duty?"

"Hell's been going through a bit of a . . . renovation since the big exile. Lots of firing and hiring—you never know who you can trust," Crowley said. "And as inept as you and Moose and that pet angel of yours are, I assume that you can handle one dog."

"No," Dean said. "I'm not your damn—"

"Or I could just set her loose in the nearest playground and let her entertain herself." Crowley smiled smugly. That bastard.

"Fine. But you better be back when your evil powwow's over, or it's not gonna be pretty."

"Done. And if there's a hair harmed on my darling's little head when I return, then there _will_ be hell to pay." And with that, the demon disappeared.

"Great. Just great," Dean muttered. He already had his Sasquatch moose of a brother to deal with, not to mention an angel who had the tendency to stare at him like some kind of half-drowned cat and was currently around pretty much twenty-four-seven, and now there was this thing. He almost missed fighting for his life.

Almost.

"Dean," said a low, familiar voice behind him. "Why is there a dog in the living room? I thought you do not like dogs."

The dog, which had been sitting quietly on the floor, rose on all four legs and started growling at the angel.

"You'd better hang back, Cas," Dean said. "I'm betting hellhounds and angels don't exactly play nice."

The dog was full out barking now. Drool was dripping from its jaw—gross. "Pipe down," Dean said. When that didn't work, he said, "Sit. _Sit_."

Nothing. He could feel the first tinges of a headache coming on.

"Perhaps if you called her by name, she would be more willing to respond," Castiel said, seemingly unfazed by the one hundred pounds of demon meat ready to pounce on him. Stupid angel mojo.

"Damn it," Dean said. "Crowley didn't tell me its name."

"She says her name is Growley."

"Growley. _Growley_?" Of all the dumbest names . . . Chocolate freaking Bon Bon would have been better. "Wait a minute. You can talk to it?"

Cas nodded. "Angels speak most languages except for a small number of rare, antiquated tongues."

"Of course you do." Dean looked down at Growley. The dog was still snarling, but at least it was no longer barking its head off. "So . . . What is it—"

"Growley."

"— _Growley_ thinking now?"

"Growley is averse to me because . . . Well, an exact translation would be: I am too shiny. But she is growing used to it."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, Electro. Let's take this puppy for a walk before it craps on the carpet."

"Hellhounds don't need to defecate, Dean."

"Whatever. They've still gotta exercise, right?"

"Growley would like a game of fetch, preferably with a fireball rather than a stick," Cas said. "And she does not appreciate your assumption that she would relieve herself indoors."

"Well, I'm so sorry to offend. And we don't have any fireballs, whatever the hell those are."

"They're gaseous spheres that have been ignited—"

"I was joking, Cas."

The angel looked down at his shoes, blue eyes contrite. "My apologies."

Dean shook his head, though he couldn't help smiling a little. He looked around for something that would serve as a substitute for a fireball. They didn't keep bouncy balls on hand—Dean didn't want a dog, and he really put his foot down when Sam mentioned adopting a rescue cat—but they did have a bowl full of oranges thanks to Gigantor the health nut.

Dean picked one up, squeezed it to test its firmness, and threw it over the dog's head. "Okay, fetch."

Growley just stared at him. If dogs could talk, Dean would have sworn that this one was saying, _You are the world's biggest idiot._ Of course, this dog technically could talk thanks to Cas, so he really didn't want to know.

"What, you don't like citrus?" he asked.

"I'm afraid you have it backwards," Cas said. "When Growley suggested fetch, she meant that _you_ would be the one retrieving the ball."


	2. Operation Destiel

_**Series Background:**_

 _Lucifer's in the cage—for good this time. Amara is gone. God is back. After returning as Chuck, He limited the number of demons and monsters roaming the Earth to give the Winchesters some well-deserved peace. And did I mention that as a reward, Castiel was allowed to stay? Sam and Dean are finally settling down, but their adventures are far from over. They must now adjust to one of their greatest challenges to date: suburbia (or something like it. They've got to get in at least one hunt on the weekends, for Chuck's sake)._

 _ **Collection:**_ _Further Down the Road_

 _ **Title:**_ _Operation Destiel_

 _ **Snapshot:**_ _2 of ?_

"Right there."

"Is that—"

"No, not _there_. Just . . . Hold on a sec."

. . .

"Are you all right, Dean? Your heartbeat is elevated above a range that is normal."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because we can stop at any moment if you are uncomfortable—"

"I said I'm fine, Cas. Don't kill the mood."

. . .

. . . .

. . .

"That was quite . . . pleasurable."

"We've barely started."

"Yes, but I am not used to such human sensations."

"Well, I'm glad I can introduce you."

. . .

. . . .

. . .

"Ouch . . . Cas, your elbow . . ."

"I am sorry. Is that better?"

"Move up a little . . . Okay, that's good. You're heavier than you look, man."

"I believe that my grace has a certain weight to it reminiscent of the element—oh, yes. That is enjoyable."

. . .

. . . .

. . .

"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?"

"Am I acting inappropriately? When I researched on the Internet about sexual intercourse, the article discussed foreplay—"

"Number one, that's not foreplay. That's . . . That's putting the cart before the horse. That's not even _having_ a horse. And two, do. Not. Use. Google."

"But Sam said—"

"I don't care what Sam said. Sam's a big girl who'd cry if he spilled his soy latte on his laptop. Just stick to the books, okay?"

"Okay. Should we return to what we were doing before?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just . . ."

. . .

. . . .

. . .

"What the . . . Dude, what the hell was that?"

"Due to my excited state and the supernatural fluctuations occurring in the world right now, I think my wings were able to materialize on the physical plane."

. . .

"So you're saying you popped an angel boner?"

"Those are rather crude terms, but essentially, yes."

"Good God."

"Please do not mention my Father at this time, Dean."

"Wait, what? Oh God, no—wait, I mean . . . Forget it! It's just, I've never had someone's 'dick' nearly put my eye out."

"My wings may be sacred, but I assure you that they are nothing like genitalia. However, my vessel is undeniably . . . aroused."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you. Let me look at your eye."

"It's no big deal. You can just mojo me better, right?"

"I'm afraid my abilities are not working as they should at the moment. Although I am at peace with Heaven, my connection to the host's power is tenuous."

"Of course. Just like them to half ass the job."

"Your eyebrow is bleeding. Perhaps we should refrain from further sexual activity for the time being."

"That's probably a good idea."

"I am fine with taking a slower pace overall. I think that would put you at ease."

. . .

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Cas. I don't need to be coddled."

"No, but this is new territory for both of us."

"How is this new for you after that April chick?"

"You are male, Dean. And April does not count."

"Oh. Right."

. . .

"Perhaps we should stay with kissing, for now?"

"Man, do you have to make it sound like we're twelve?"

"Dean. This is not the time for your immature deflection."

"Come on, you know I'm just—"

. . .

. . . .

. . . . .

. . . .

. . .

" _That_ is what I meant by kissing."

. . .

"Wow. Just . . . Wow."

"Is that satisfactory?"

"Yeah, Cas. I think I can live with that."


End file.
